Page 92 of Sexted By a Stranger
The nurse quickly and gently wrapped the tiny bundle in soft blankets.
Luca pressed a deep kiss to my forehead.
"You were incredible, stellina. Thank you for giving me the most precious gift in the world. You're amazing, and I'm so proud of you."
I was too exhausted to respond, managing only a weak smile.
Luca carefully took our daughter from the nurse's arms. This man, who struck fear into his enemies, trembled slightly as he held that soft, tiny life.
"She's so small, so perfect." His voice cracked with emotion, tears glistening in his eyes. "Luna," he whispered with infinite tenderness, "our little moon."
He bent down, gently placing Luna on my chest, gazing at me with overflowing love.
I was certain he would be the most wonderful father.
After Luna's birth, Mom decided to move in with us to help care for her. Leon was thrilled, playing with Luna every day and showing me the portraits he'd drawn of her.
Meanwhile, Luca began planning our wedding.
I had only one request: keep it simple.
Luca readily agreed, but I could see from his eyes that his definition of "simple" differed from mine.
A month later, staring at a ten-page wedding checklist, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
"Luca. You call this simple?" I waved the list in the air. "Four hundred guests. Three-tier cake. You even got Vivian to perform live?."
"This is the scaled-down version," he looked completely innocent. "The original plan was eight hundred people."
"Vivian," I raised an eyebrow, "isn't my idol also your ex-girlfriend? She agreed to come?"
Luca's expression instantly tensed. "Sheila, how did you know about that? That's all in the past."
"Oh?" I deliberately drew out the sound. "Mr. Luca Bellomo, you wouldn't be trying to rekindle old flames at our wedding, would you?"
"What? No!" he rushed to explain. "We've been just friends for years!"
Seeing him like this, I couldn't help but laugh. "I'm kidding. I trust you. Besides, I want to get a few autographs."
"Stellina, you scared me," he exhaled in relief.
Luca
Sheila said to keep it "simple."
My stellina was always thoughtful, never wanting to trouble anyone.
I reviewed every item on the checklist, from white roses air-shipped from Italy to the three-layer security network Ragnar had arranged throughout and around the estate. This was already the biggest compromise I could make.
The night before the wedding, I sat alone in my study. On the wall, portraits of generations of Soprano family leaders gazed down silently.
The door opened, and the sound of a silver cane tapping against the floor announced my uncle Lorenzo Bellomo's arrival.
His hawk-like gaze swept over me, settling on a proposal for overseas investments.
"Luca," his voice was gravelly, "are you certain about her? That dancer-turned-jewelry designer?" He paused, his cane striking the floor with a heavy thud. "Word on the street is you're moving our family's foundation—built over generations—into those clean businesses for this woman. Tell me it's not true."
I turned to meet his sharp stare. "Uncle Lorenzo, Sheila is my choice, Luna's mother. Her strength, determination, and intelligence make her worthy of the Soprano name and all its responsibilities."
